


i got the good side of new (found arms to fall right into)

by loualwaysyou



Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Louis, Break Up, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Met Gala, Model Niall, One Night Stand, Paris Fashion Week, Recreational Drug Use, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sexual Tension, Stylist Harry, Teasing, Top Gun references, Top Harry, but not long so relax, but what else is new, eventual model louis, harry has a fiancé for a bit, harry is American (sorry!), louis is british, niall is... Irish, past homeless louis, past homeless niall, talk of a parent passing away (past), they’re in denial for awhile, ziam side pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:09:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loualwaysyou/pseuds/loualwaysyou
Summary: Harry is content until he isn’t and Louis feels a lot like freedom.Travel au ft. Niall as cupid, Louis as chaos personified, and Harry as every ridiculous cliche, one of them being, falling in love with your one night stand.





	1. fallingwater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [signofthetimelinson28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/signofthetimelinson28/gifts).



> This is for my darling best friend and soul mate, Brooke, because you are the sunshine in my life! <3
> 
> This fic is inspired by The Good Side by Troye Sivan. Here’s a playlist you can listen to as you read. :)  
> (UPDATE: I’m adding new songs to this all the time. I’ve added at least 40 since posting this so please check it out!) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ZZU7OWrhujaLyGwKBFEAo?si=6U1kQPRISqi8jSzTHZxw9A
> 
> Update: So, setting a posting schedule for me just simply doesn’t work. I will update when I can. If you don’t like to wait, which most people probably don’t, you can bookmark it for later. If you do decide to read as I upload new chapters, thank you for putting up with me. :) This will be the first fic I finish and I would love it if you leave comments as you go. 
> 
> A quick note: I understand that this is not exactly how the fashion industry works but then again, harry is also not american in real life, so. I’ve tailored things as I see fit (pun intended) and also, you’re welcome for model!Niall. It’s what he deserves!
> 
> One more thing, I’ve also steered clear (as much as I possibly can) of bottom/top stereotypes because I hate them. So Harry still has his feminine qualities, Louis is still a brat. 
> 
> That’s it! Enjoy!

—- Chapter 1 —-

Fallingwater

**_“And I'm like falling water, set me free_ ** **_  
_** **_You were like falling water coming down on me_ ** **_  
_** **_I never loved you fully in the way I could_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_I fought the current running just the way you would_**

 **_And now I'm in the creek_ ** **_  
_** **_I never gave you everything, I wish I could_ ** **_  
_** **_I should've seen it coming from where you stood_ ** **_  
_** **_But now I'm in the creek_ ** **_  
_** **_A_** ** _nd it's getting harder_ _  
_ _I am like falling water”_**

**_Maggie Rogers - Fallingwater_ **

~

He gets the email at 3 a.m. on a Friday.

It’s the absolute _best_ feeling in the world and he’s wanted this for so, so long. Reading the email again, Harry knows that the very first person he wants to tell is his fiancé, but there are a million reasons why he feels like he can’t.  
  
Christian has reacted to news about Harry’s work the same way for the past year. He’ll brush him off and never appear interested. There were never any excited questions being thrown at him or nights out to celebrate, and Harry just knew what would happen.  
  
An hour passes as Harry tosses around restlessly. Turning the engagement ring on his finger over and over again he finally falls back to sleep, deep in thought, email still open and staring at him.

In the morning, Christian hugs him, murmuring a _that’s great, babe_ when he tells him the news, gives him a tight smile, a peck on the lips and then leaves promptly for work. Harry sits on the bed rereading the email a few times before he finally sits up. His stomach flutters in anticipation for this huge step he’s about to take and then rolls with a different kind of nausea, an unsettling feeling he can’t seem to shake.  
  
He should feel good. He should be _celebrating_ because this is exactly what he’s been working towards since he learned how to sew. Since he started buying vogue at twelve years old, flipping through the pages in awe, thinking, _maybe I can do that too._

It’s a step closer to getting everything he’s ever wanted, but he knows what it means and he knows that things will only get harder from here.

~

Three days later he gets the call to confirm his new position.

“We’re very sorry for the short notice, Mr. Styles. We know three weeks isn’t a lot of time to make arrangements for a nine week trip around the globe but Cynthia left on such short notice and you were number one on our list,” Cara informs him. His hands are shaking a little but Harry feels invincible in that moment. He was first on _Gucci’s_ list of potential stylists.

“It’s fine,” He clears his throat. _Don’t scream and jump for joy Harry, you are a professional._ “Honestly, I’m so honored. I can’t believe my portfolio was even considered,” He states, in a tone he hopes is the picture of cool and calm.

“I’m looking at it now, actually.” He hears pages ruffle on the other end of the phone. “I’ve been here for a very long time and no one has been able to capture Alessandro’s vision quite like you have. The way you layer and piece together looks is just- It’s exactly what we need for our fall and winter campaigns. And some of these are your original designs, correct?”

“Correct,” He does _not_ squeak. He takes a deep breath, actually trying not to cry.

“They’re gorgeous. I love the lace and sequins... Oh!” Harry can hear it when she slams the book shut and starts clicking around on her computer. He shifts around uncomfortably on the bed, praying that there hasn’t been some last minute decision to cancel everything. Especially considering he’s already turned in his two week notice. “I just received an email with your full schedule for Mr. Horan. Would you like to go over it together?” She asks cheerfully in her low but sweet british lilt. 

He lets out a breath, relief flooding through him. “I’d love that. Not really sure what all I’m getting myself into, if I’m honest.”

He receives the email on his end within the minute, eyes scanning over the lengthy schedule. His eyes lock on Barbados immediately and he thinks he might just faint right then and there.

“Your first stop, as you can see, is here in London. Niall has a small shoot here for GQ, so you’ll be quite familiar with that space. It’s basically the exact same as their set up there in Chicago. You’ll have a couple days to get well acquainted. I think you’ll really enjoy working with Mr. Horan, you’ll have plenty of time to become good friends.”

“ _Friends_ ?” _Friends_ with _Niall Horan_?

Cara giggles down the line and Harry is quite endeared by it. “Yes, Mr. Styles, _friends._ Niall might be one of the most famous models in the world but he’s certainly the most humble and down to earth, as well.”

“Wow,” He breathes, scrolling down the page and then back up to the top, too excited to even process the words he’s reading. “And then Barbados?”

“Yes. They’re doing a week long shoot on the beach for a summer line. Those photos will actually be used for July’s Vogue Australia; we’re way behind on that shoot because we did it once and Alessandro hated it, so we’re redoing it, which is risky but Anna seems to have a lot of faith in you.”

“Anna? As in Anna Wintour? Like _Vogue’s_ Anna Wintour?” There’s no way this is his life.

“Yes,” Cara laughs again, like this isn’t some fever dream turned reality for him. “ _Thee_ Anna Wintour happens to really love your work, believe it or not.”

“This is insane.”

She goes over every place he’ll be going over the next nine weeks. Paris Fashion Week, not his first time there, but definitely his first time styling, and The Met Gala, an event he’s never gotten the privilege to be a part of, where he’ll be choosing Niall Horan’s entire look, and many other shoots for Gucci’s fall and winter lines for magazines around the world.

“Okay, I think that’s all for now. As long as you don’t have any questions, I think we’re all set.”

“No, you’ve been very helpful. I think I’m good to go,” he informs her.

After he’s hung up, he books rooms with the first two hotels he’ll be staying at and buys a plane ticket to London for April 21st. He calls his mom and then Zayn to tell them both the news. His mom cries, because of course she does, and Zayn tells him he’s a little shit for not telling him three days ago and then hangs up on him. He can’t help but smile when the phone rings two minutes later and Zayn (and Liam, who snatches the phone twice to remind Harry to be safe and pack sunscreen) gives him a proper congratulations speech and suggests that him and Chris should meet up with them for dinner on Wednesday night.

“But you're not leaving forever, right? You won't be traveling _all_ the time?” Zayn asks.

“No, I’ll stay here at the headquarters for the rest of the year. It’s just that each year they choose a stylist to travel with whichever model is leading their seasonal campaign and it just happens to be me. I might have to travel a little bit throughout the rest of the year but nothing like this.”

“That’s good. Well, obviously I would support you either way. Even if you had to travel all the time or even move to New York or London or wherever, really, but I can’t say I wouldn’t be a _little_ bit sad. Believe it or not, we might actually miss you when you leave.”

“Ha ha,” Harry deadpans. “You've always been so sweet to me, Malik.”

“It’s Payne to you,” Liam cuts in, “Now we’ve gotta get back to… what we were doing before and you have work to do. Love ya! See ya! Don’t forget sunscreen!”

“First of all, ew. Second of all, you act like I’m not going to see you on-” The line goes dead. “Wednesday,” Harry sighs, dropping the phone.

He watches out the window as the Chicago sky opens up, letting the sun peak through for the first time all morning. Golden beams of light filter in and bathe the room in soft yellow. For some reason, it makes his mind wander to that time he suggested they paint the kitchen in a light shade of mustard because he had read in _Good Housekeeping_ that it’s supposed to be more lively and inviting. Of course, they never did because Christian wanted a plain and simple home, but right now he kind of wishes that the walls surrounding him were anything but stark white. Taking in the room that he’ll soon not be seeing every day for awhile, he realizes, and maybe for the first time, that it’s not only plain, but it doesn’t really have any of his own personality incorporated at all. Which had always been fine because, honestly, Harry never had a lot of things to fill the space, never needed much.

There’s a rack of all Chris’ dry cleaned suits pushed up by the wall. The walls are mostly bare apart from a couple family photos and the dresser has a candle sitting to the left and a small ceramic bowl his niece had made in art class that’s holding all his rings. Behind the mirrored closet doors sits his wardrobe, filled with mostly high fashion pieces he’s gotten over the past few years working as an assistant at GQ. The bedding is gray, the curtains are apparently a different shade of gray and really, he knows they are. He’s a stylist, after all, but right now gray is gray and it’s all making him feel sick.

There’s a photo perched on the nightstand, one he took almost a year ago at a banquet for Chris’ real estate company. He always goes to every single dinner, banquet and important event that Chris’ business has put on in the past two years, and this particular one was a celebration of their largest sale to date. He’s having a hard time thinking of more than a handful of times where Chris had been there for him for a photoshoot or an important dinner or even just a small fashion show that he’d helped style.

He’s always felt like it was fine, because Chris is so busy but, now he just feels a bit nostalgic over his mom’s house where everyone fawned over every single piece of fabric he had sewn together and every little design he has ever sketched, and where the kitchen is seafoam green, and the bathroom is periwinkle blue. His bedroom was a soft lavender with all his favorite magazine spreads plastered to the walls, and Harry thinks that maybe plain white just isn’t as fine as it used to be.

~

At some point he falls back asleep and wakes up to the sound of pouring rain. It’s a little before four in the afternoon and he knows that Chris will be home at any moment.

When he finally hears keys rattling and the front door open in the distance, he winces a little. It’s been a pretty tense seventy two hours with his fiance.

“Hey babe,” He greets as Harry walks out to meet him in the living room. He runs a hand through his damp hair and pulls off his raincoat and shoes. “You didn't go in today?”

“No,” Harry says slowly. “I thought I had told you, I worked from home today. I only had a few layouts for the July issue to finish up. I still have a bit to do before bed. Anyways, um,” He stands near the kitchen island a little awkwardly, biting at his thumbnail. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” Chris sighs, sitting down on the couch and reaching for the remote. He yawned stretching out and flipping through a few channels before landing on the weather. “I had lunch with Macie and then we went to a meeting in the city. I think the new buildings for those apartment complexes will be done soon and then things should slow back down for awhile. I’m exhausted.”

Harry taps his fingers on the bar, reaching for his laptop that he’d brought in, hoping to show Chris what he had been working on. “Yeah? That’ll be great, you’ve been working so hard lately. I think the apartments will be nice, it’s a great part of the city. Plus, when I get back we’ll be able to spend more time together,” Harry insisted, ignoring the way Chris tenses up just slightly.

“Yeah… what’s the date you’re heading off again?” His tone was too light, a fakeness to it that Harry could sense from a mile away.

“The- let’s see,” Harry mumbles, clicking back to the email Cara had sent him earlier that day. “April 21st is the day I head to London. I talked to someone from Gucci today and they gave me my full schedule.” He glances up to see Chris picking at his nails. He names off a few of the cities, including Amsterdam, which he was probably the most excited about since Zayn had said that his and Liam’s honeymoon there was the best week of his life, but Chris looks distant, like he’s somewhere else completely.

“Also,” Harry tries, a little loudly and his fiance’s eyes snap up to his. “I wanted to show you this new design I was working on- I, um, just wanted your opinion.”

“Sure,” Chris nods, standing up to stretch and yawn again. He walks around the table to stand behind Harry, a hand resting on his shoulder.

Harry clicks on a tab at the bottom of the page and clears his throat. “See, I was trying something new here for the top. It’s like a cinched waist and then flows out. And then, see here, the seams have these ruffles in the front. What do you think, would it be weird to add, like, a few red ruffles here?” He points to the design. He’s been working on getting this one right for a week, knowing that if he did ever get the chance to show Alessandro, the creative director of Gucci, his newer work, that something like this could be perfect for next year’s fall and winter collections. It was his dream to design for a company as huge and renowned as Gucci.

Chris squeezes his shoulder and kisses the top of his head. “You know I’m no good at this fashion stuff-” Harry wants to scoff. “It looks good the way you have it.” He steps away and starts heading for the hallway. “Just mess around with it or something. I think I’m gonna take a shower. Do you wanna order us some take out?”

“Yeah, sure,” He murmurs, shutting the laptop and putting his head in his hands and trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. He’s _so_ fucking frustrated with Chris acting as if everything Harry does for work is some childish hobby, or worse, like what Chris was doing somehow made him better than Harry. He wanted him to be _proud_ and excited and at the very least, seem somewhat interested for once, but Harry felt like he was grasping at straws to get Chris to even seem interested in Harry himself lately, let alone his work.

He orders their food from a local chinese restaurant just down the street and waits on the couch for it to be delivered, scrolling through his twitter account and seeing new photos that his sister had posted of his mom and his step-dad, Robin, barbequing out on their deck. He smiles. His mom looks so incredibly happy and Robbin has his head tipped back and his hands on his stomach laughing. He misses them so much, especially right now, when things seem to be falling apart here.

“What are you smiling about, babe?”

Chris startles him, making him flinch. “Huh? Oh, nothing, just something my sister posted. Hey, I was thinking we could maybe have a movie night. Just cuddle, eat, watch something on Netflix?”

“Sure, what did you have in mind?” He asks.

An hour and a half later they ‘re sitting on the couch, stomachs full, and halfway through an episode of _Stranger Things_ . A show that Harry was interested in watching ever since someone from work had raved about it. But, Harry is getting increasingly annoyed with Chris’ phone. They had found themselves cuddled up together on one side of the couch, blanket covering the both of them. And, see, usually Harry doesn't mind Chris texting because he understands how important it is to keep your clients appeased when you're running your own company, but they have _three_ weeks together before Harry leaves and he can recall only a few times in the last three weeks where they've spent any real time together. He just wants these upcoming nights to be different somehow, like how they used to be well before his business had expanded.

Chris’ phone starts ringing suddenly and Harry glances over to see Chris eyeing it, expression clearly guilty. “I should- It’ll just be a second,” He promises. He gestures over his shoulder, standing up and stepping out of the living room, leaving Harry slightly irritated.

It’s when he finally realizes that an entire half hour has gone by, that he decides he needs to get some air. He slips on his boots, throwing on his favorite black hoodie before grabbing his keys and-

“You're leaving?” Harry hadn't heard their bedroom door open. He was hoping to slip away unnoticed.

“Yeah, I just- I need to clear my head. I'm just heading to the studio.”

“Wait- You still go to the studio?”

Harry just gapes at him. He’s standing there hunched over, his dark brown hair a little jostled, sweat pants baggy and phone hanging from his hand, looking every bit like a man that Harry didn't feel like he knows anymore. And who certainly doesn't know Harry.

“You-” He sputters, “you can't be- I go every week. All the time! I go as much as I can. How could you not- how could you not know that?”

“I just didn’t- I don’t-”

Harry cuts him off. “I show you what I’m working on all the time, Christain! I _just_ showed you earlier today!”

“Yeah, but I didn't know that meant that you still went there!”

“You think I’m just doodling for fun, don’t you? I know you don’t understand this ‘fashion stuff’” He said, using air quotes, “And clearly, you never will. But, god, you can’t think I had just given up on that, could you? Alessandro said that I had exactly what they were looking for, _me_ , Chris. Out of all the other people, they see something in me, in what I’ve done at GQ. _You_ don't even see that! You haven't been to my studio since the very first month we got together, and that was _two years_ ago! Have you ever even seen my portfolio?”

“I’ve-”

“No,” Harry sighs, exasperated. “No, you haven't because it’s all a fucking joke to you.”

“Harry,” Chris replies sadly. “You know that isn't true. You know how busy I get.” He steps towards Harry, arms outstretched.

“I’m sorry. I just- I need to go. I don’t want your bullshit excuses.” He moves around Chris, who drops his arms in defeat, and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter. Chris remains silent, arms crossed, as Harry takes his laptop from the table and tucks it under his arm.

He leaves without another word, deciding to just walk the few blocks to his studio, hoping the fresh air will clear his head.

He thinks of the sharp contrast that his relationship is from what it used to be as he makes his way through the busy streets. There’s a little pizza shop down the road where they had their first date. Harry had been crawling out of his skin with nerves that night, not believing that this handsome older man was interested in meeting up with him. They had met on _Tinder_ because, at the time, Harry was so over meeting random men in bars or clubs that had only ever amounted to a quick hook-up. He had really wanted something more.

Chris was wonderful, he had been so sweet and loving to Harry and Harry had fallen in love with all the small and important gestures he’d always made. And last year when he whisked Harry away on a surprise vacation to New York city, Harry was ecstatic when he proposed.

All of that seemed like a dream now.

The studio sits nestled between a small family owned coffee shop and a rundown sports bar. You wouldn't even know it was there if you weren't looking, with the door slightly beat up, painted a dark teal and the obvious shadow of a sign on the glass of the window, scratched and worn from the weather, that you can't read anymore.

The inside, though, is absolutely nothing like the outside. It’s sleek and clean, albeit a little quirky with the wildly patterned furniture and magazine spreads on the walls, just like his old childhood bedroom, and it’s everything he had envisioned when he bought the space. With it being an old, abandoned boutique store, there were already racks lined up the walls and mirrors along each side of the space. He had added bright florescent lighting so that he was sure to get colors just right, amd when he had started to force Zayn and his sister to come and be his models, they decided to put in a real catwalk at the center in the very back of the room.

He unlocks the door, pushing inside and breathing in the familiar scent. It feels like home here, with the lights low and the mess he had left last time sitting right in the middle of the floor. Rolls of deep burgundy and faux leather fabric are haphazardly tossed on the ground and his sketches with measurements are lying beside them.

He sits his laptop down on a nearby chair and takes a deep breath before he starts picking things up, deciding that he might as well start on his new drawing he’d been working on if he’s already here. After, he’s chosen new fabric, cut it into the sizes he needs, he grabs the laptop off the chair and turns it on, opening up the same document he had tried showing Chris earlier.

It’s almost one o'clock in the morning when he’s finally got the top sewn up and onto a mannequin. He steps back, rubbing his eyes tiredly and surveying his work.

In the end, he decides to go ahead and add the red ruffles.

~

“So you’re a hundred percent sure you don’t wanna come tonight?” Harry tries for the third time. He ties a blue Alexander McQueen scarf around his head to hold his curls out of his face and cuffs the sleeves on his sheer black top, considering for a moment that it might be cold in the restaurant.

It’s now Wednesday and their argument from the other night had basically gone unresolved. Chris acted like it hadn't happened the day before, going on and on to explain to Harry how the next few weeks might be a bit hard because Chris had a new client to take care of. Harry had shrugged him off, he just couldn't find the energy to care lately.

He hears Chris sigh from the bed, like Harry asking again is ruining his night. “You know I would but I have to run by the office. And you know it’s not really my scene.”

Harry scoffs. “It’s not your scene? It’s just dinner with Zayn and Liam. We’re not going to the club or something,” He looks through the closet for a moment before he finds his favorite blazer. “Plus, it’s a celebration dinner for me, you’d think you would try to make it.”

He turns around to see Chris slipping on his shoes, thinking for a second that he’s changed his mind and decided to grace them with his presence tonight. And Harry thinks he _should_ because he hasn’t come to one of their dinners in months. But then he’s grabbing his keys and wallet. “I’ve had this meeting planned for a month, Harry. You found out about your new job four days ago. I don’t understand why you’re acting like this again.”

Harry watches him stand there for a moment in the doorway, eyes scanning over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding, right? It’s not just some new job, it’s- it’s what I’ve been working for, for three _years_ , Chris. And you haven’t shown a single _bit_ of excitement for me.”

“Yeah, well.” Chris pulls out his phone, checking the time and then slides it back into his pocket, jaw clenching.

“You really just don’t care, do you?” Harry leans up against their dresser, arms crossed. He can feel his anger swelling. “You know what, I- I come to every single one of your dinners. I’m there for _every_ fucking fancy ass banquet with people I don’t even _like_ , all for you! Do you think I care about buildings and contracts, Chris? Do you? No, of course I don’t! But I care about you and I care about us and- You know what, I let you choose how we spend our money, I let you decide what we eat, I let _you_ decide on the decor for our house. I let you paint all the fucking walls white!”

Chris’ eyebrows scrunch up. “What the hell do the walls have to do with anything right now?”

Harry huffs. “Just fucking forget it.” He shoves past him, bottom lip quivering.

“Harry,” He sighs. “Babe, wait- just-“ Chris grabs at his sleeve, trying to pull him away from the door. “Please don’t cry. We- we can fix this, I know we can.”

Harry takes a shuddery breath, trying to calm himself down before untangling himself from his hold. “I don’t- I don’t know if we can.” And then he leaves out the door as quickly as possible.

It’s when he gets inside his car, watching Chris run down the steps of their porch, that he completely and utterly breaks. He cries while backing out, leaving Chris looking confused and distraught on the sidewalk. He cries the entire way there as his phone rings and rings until he finally gets sick of it and turns it off.

He does, however, muster up the strength to compose himself, enough so, that Zayn only eyes him suspiciously when he reaches the table they had reserved.

“There’s my bigshot of a best friend,” Zayn gushes. He slips a hand around Liam’s shoulder and props his chin on the other, looking like familiarity and home and just exactly what Harry needs right now. “No Chris?” Liam asks, the same expression as Zayn. Harry swears that once you get married, you start doing some weird ass telepathic soulmate shit where you look alike.

“Nope,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’. “I need a margarita or something stronger. Something fucking strong sounds wonderful.”

“It’s that bad, H?” Zayn sits up straighter, looking like an older brother ready to pounce on an elementary school bully.

“It’s that bad and you know, I wasn’t going to say anything, especially not in front of Liam-“

“Hey!” Liam’s brows furrow and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t act like you’re not the group worry wart. As bad as my damn mother, Li.”

Zayn laughs weakly. “That’s actually accurate. Just the other day I stubbed my toe on the couch and Liam was grabbing the keys, ready to go to the damn hospital. Like living with my grandma sometimes.”

Liam shrugs, smiling. “One day it’ll come in handy. And I sure hope your grandma wouldn’t do what I did to you this morning.”

Harry stares at them. They’re so- he doesn’t know. They’re so _cute_ . He would never tell them that though, only at their wedding did he say anything like that and they went on about it for three months. Three months of _Harry thinks we’re so cute! Harry, do you wanna see us kiss again? Harry, did you know we framed your speech?_

“You two are disgusting,” he says instead, and he means that, too. “Too much information.”

“Tell us, babe, what’s going on,” Zayn says seriously

Harry doesn’t have an answer. He feels weighed down and fuzzy, like he’s been asleep for a year and he’s finally waking up.

“God, I just- I need help, advice, _something_ because- because I’m so-“ So done. Maybe he’s just done.

“Okay,” Liam replies slowly, melodic. “Well, start from the beginning.”

And Harry does. He tells them about the last few days, how Chris hasn’t been supportive of him in the least bit, how he’s tried to spend time with him and fails no matter what he does. He explains that it started awhile ago, which they had said they had a feeling that things weren’t going as well as they seemed. He gets choked up a few times, explaining that he really wants to fix this, but he’s not sure if he can, or if he even knows where to begin. Harry spills all his emotions out for twenty minutes straight, while his best friends listen attentively, and he’s feeling lighter when he finishes, sipping on his drink.

“Look, I hate to- I like Chris, Harry but this isn’t healthy. This is turning into a toxic relationship and sure, maybe you could fix it but it doesn’t sound like Chris _wants_ to change.”

Harry picks at a small crack in table, biting his lip. Of course, Liam is right, he usually is when it comes to this kind of thing, but Harry is heartbroken over it and he doesn’t want to believe that he can’t salvage his relationship with the man he honestly thought he would marry.

“Fuck.” Harry scrubs his hands over his face.

“Just talk to him. Have you tried to have an adult conversation?”

“What the fuck do you mean, Li? He’s obviously said all he can say. He’s made it pretty-“ The waitress comes by, noticing Zayn’s angry expression and then backs away, murmuring a sorry and then that’ll she’ll be back with a refill. Thank god, because Harry needs it.

“Look, I don’t need you two arguing about me arguing, Jesus. Just- I’ll talk to him. Hang on.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it back on. “He was blowing up my phone on the way here, no telling what my texts are looking like.”

“Can I be honest, Haz?”

“Please do, Z.” Harry looks at him and he looks smaller than before, maybe afraid that Harry won’t agree with whatever he’s going to say.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Zayn tells him seriously. “And I know when you two got together you were so in love and he was amazing, but clearly he doesn’t appreciate you for _you_ . It sounds like you’ve changed a lot about yourself just for him and thank god you haven’t stopped designing because of him, because I swear to god Harry, you’re gonna do incredible things with it. But just- please think seriously about this. If he can’t love you and accept you for who you are then- then maybe he’s not the _one_.”

Harry feels his eyes well up again, looking down at his phone and watching the notifications roll in. Ten missed calls and four texts. He looks up to find two sets of eyes boring into his.

“I thought he _was_ the one, you know, I really did. It’s not fucking fair. And I can’t even- I don’t want to even look at these texts right now.”

Zayn looks as upset as Harry feels, as he slides out of his side of their booth and into his, wrapping his arms around Harry and holding him tight.

“Shh. I know, Haz. You can-” He starts, glancing at Liam who must be able to read Zayn’s mind by now, not that Harry is surprised. Liam nods. “You can stay at our place tonight, if you’d like. Li didn’t drink and he can drive your car over. We can cuddle like old times.”

Harry sighs, looking down at his phone. The last thing he wants to do is go home,and even though he knows he can’t run forever, he doesn't think he can stand another argument tonight.

“It’s probably for the best. We both need some time to cool off I think.”

Zayn gives Harry one final crushing hug and moves to stand. “Okay, let’s get home. It’s getting late and we’ve all got work in the morning.”

A little later that night, Harry is lying in Liam and Zayn’s guest room, staring at the words on his phone screen. There are four messages in total, two of them are just pleas for him to come home and talk, and the other two are simple, _let’s talk tomorrow_ and _I’m sorry_. He starts a reply, explaining that he won’t be home tonight and where he’s staying.

Not even a few seconds after pressing send, Harry sees the three bubbles pop up at the bottom of his screen indicating that Chris is typing another message. Harry sighs and quickly decides he doesn’t want to talk to him anymore and shuts off his phone.

~

They don’t end up talking on Thursday, unless awkwardly trying to avoid each other when they both get home in the evening counts.

It’s Friday afternoon when Chris finally breaks. He calls Harry as he’s halfway through finishing up a section of their summer fashion spread for next month. The argument with Chris on Monday had set Harry behind a bit and he had been trying to catch up ever since.

Harry watches his phone vibrate for ten second before he takes a deep breath and picks it up.

“Hello,” He answers flatly.

“Hey Haz.” The nickname Harry usually loves so much seems bittersweet right now. He hopes Chris isn’t going to just pretend that nothing has happened again.

“What’s going on? You usually don’t call me at work,” Harry questions.

“Oh, I- well, I’ve been thinking a lot all morning about- about us. Can we- I’d like to apologize for how I acted and I want to make you dinner tonight,” He rambles. “Shrimp pasta or those paninis you like, whatever you want- then maybe we can talk.”

Harry bites his lip. Zayn’s words from the other night keep ringing in his head over and over. _You’ve changed a lot, maybe he’s not the one, seriously think about this._

“Okay. Yeah, okay. That sounds- that sounds fine.”

“Great,” Chris’ smile is evident in his voice.

“See you at home. I’ll be there around six, okay?”

“That’s fine. Perfect. See you, then.”

Harry hangs up, feeling uneasy about the entire situation. It’s four hours later when he’s finished up. He says goodbye to Calvin, head of the sports and fitness department and then gives a nod and a good night to the ladies at the front desk. He heads straight for the studio, intent on finishing his latest piece, a pair of high waisted black slacks to go with the ruffled top he had created on Monday.

He spends an hour on sewing up the front seams and another trying to get the flared ends of the pants just right. He sends a picture to Gemma of the final product, complete with simple jewelry, telling her he’s just finished it. She sends back _gorgeous!!!_ within minutes and then _get that on zayn asap!_ Harry laughs to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

He starts to pack up his things, cleaning up much better than he had last time and heads home.

The house is quiet, apart from some clattering in the kitchen, and Harry has to force himself to take the steps needed to get past the living room. Chris is standing there in a perfectly tailored Louis Vuitton button up, hair swept neatly to the side and a plate in his hand.

“Hey babe,” He greets and then gestures towards the table. That’s when Harry notices the two plates filled with pasta and breadsticks. There are two wine glasses, and a bowl of salad sitting between them on top of a white table cloth. A candle flickers in the middle and Harry can’t help but feel- confused? Maybe even hopeful.

“Hi, um, this is- wow, this is nice.” He sits down, thinking about the last time Chris had ever done anything like this for him. It had probably been over a year and a half at least.

“Let me get you some water, too. Just a second,” He says and then turns to pour Harry a glass. “And one more thing.” He returns around and dims the light and the candle illuminates their dining room.

“Thank you,” Harry smiles when Chris sits across from him with two glasses of water in hand.

“You’re welcome. Hope you like the pasta. I haven’t made that in such a long time, I was afraid I had forgotten the recipe.”

“It’s fine, I’m sure,” He gestures for them to eat.

The pasta is delicious, and minutes go by with nothing but the sound of forks clattering filling the room. Harry can’t stand the silence any longer.

“So you wanted to-“

“I wanted to-“

Harry laughs nervously, setting down his fork.

“You first.”

“No please, you,” Chris insists.

“Oh, well i was just going to say that you wanted to talk and apologize for the other night so- so, yeah. I wanted to hear you out because I’ve just been feeling, I don’t know, unhappy with the way things have been.”

“Right,” Chris sighs, looking down at his plate and biting on his cheek. “I just- please hear me out Harry. You know I love you and you also know how important you are to me.” Harry wants to tell him that he honestly _doesn’t_ know. He had no idea, if he’s honest, but then Chris continues. “I've been thinking for the past two days and I’ve realized how messed up things have gotten. I’ve been an asshole, Harry. And I- I think we need to work on our relationship more than anything else. What I’m saying is that- that I don’t want you to take that job.”

Harry’s mouth drops open in shock and then closes, and then opens again. He’s got to look like an idiot, completely speechless. He’s confused and baffled, to be honest, because how in the world can he turn down this opportunity?

The thing is that, their relationship has always felt like a sure thing to him, now it feels breakable and weak. _He_ feels breakable and weak.

“I need to-“ He shakes his head, standing up on shaky legs. “I’m- what do you expect me to say? You want me to- to give this up for what? So you can ignore me for the next- god, Chris. What are you thinking?”

He needs something, he needs his phone, his keys. He has to go.

He needs his mom.

“Harry, I thought you’d want this!” Chris follows Harry to their bedroom, hot on his heels. “I thought you’d be happy that I-“

“That you’re finally willing to finally give me the time of day? Well, I think it’s too fucking late.” He grabs the suitcase from the bottom of his wardrobe and starts shoving clothes inside.

“If you go Harry, then we’re done.” He argues, childishly, crossing his arms in the doorway.

Harry scoffs, “Then I guess we’re done, aren’t we?”

He won’t cry. He _refuses_ to cry.

“Picking some stupid fucking job over me, ridiculous,” he laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. “I bet your little friends got inside your head.”

_He doesn’t deserve you._

“No. That’s where you’re fucking wrong. I’m _not_ picking a job over you. I’m choosing myself over you and maybe that’s selfish, but clearly you don’t fucking know me at all. I’ve bent over backwards to make you happy for two years and this is what you give me. An ultimatum. I'm just so fucking tired of this and I need to go, ” He says, suddenly feeling exhausted, the week catching up to him.

Chris’ lips are pressed into a tight line and he opens them like he wants to argue, but decides against it, moving away from the door so that Harry can pass through.

“So, this is it.” It’s not a question.

“This is it. Goodbye, Christian.”

~

Harry, to his surprise, doesn’t break down until he’s face to face with Gemma. He’s standing there, hair soaked from the rain, a suitcase in hand and the absolute worst headache in the world.

“Haz?” She questions, opening the door and letting him step inside. “What are you doing here?

“What are _you_ doing here?”

She’s eyes him with a look that tells him he’s going to have to explain first.

“Harry,” She says sternly, looking down at his suitcase and then back up to his face.

He breathes in deeply and then like the tide crashing on the sand, he breaks for what feel like the hundredth time this week.

She’s every bit the angry older sister he expects her to be when he tells about his night. His mom is sleeping and since he had come over unannounced, he decides it’s probably best to let her sleep and talk in the morning.

Gemma, though, she wants every detail. After spilling his heart out, _again_ , and having a good cry on her shoulder, they sit together in the living room.

“I just feel- well, I could kill him, honestly. But, also, I’m really fucking proud of you. I think you made the right decision.”

“I know it’s going to be rough, you know? Getting over it but you have no idea how excited I am about leaving. Just getting away for a little while.” He gives a watery smile, turning over his engagement ring. It startles him and he looks down at it for what feels like the first time in a week.

“Fuck. I should-“ He slips it off, holding it in his palm. “I don’t wanna look at it, Gems. Can you please-“

She takes it and eyes it for a moment. “Wanna throw it off the balcony?”

He snorts, “You think I’m throwing an $8,000 ring off the balcony? I’ll pawn it or something, I doubt he would want it back.”

She gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading up to her room, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the living room.

~

When his mom sees him in the morning, just having woken up on the couch after he’d fallen asleep there the night before, she gasps like she’s just seen a ghost.

“Harry! You scared the-” She puts a hand to her chest in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise,” He shrugs, exhausted, while rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

She shakes her head. “Obviously you're always welcome here, sweetheart. What made you come over so late and on a weeknight? Something wrong?”

He covers his face with his hands, and then looks out the window, feeling groggy but relieved to see the sun is just rising and he has plenty of time to shower before work.

His mother is eyeing him expectantly. Like ripping off a bandaid he says, “Chris and I broke up.”

The shock is evident on her face. “You _what_? But you- Harry, what happened? I didn’t even know things were bad between the two of you?”

Harry doesn't want to tell this story again. In fact, it’s the very last thing he wants to do right before a long, stressful day at work. “Can I tell you after work please? Or actually, ask Gemma, I’m sure she’d love any chance to rant about Chris again. And also, can I stay here until I leave for London? I don’t want to impose but-”

“Nonsense, Harry. You could stay forever if you wanted. And yes, of course. I don’t want you getting yourself all worked up. Get up and give me a hug and while you're getting ready I'll make you some toast and coffee.”

“Mom, I can just grab something on the way. You don’t have to do that.”

“Harry,” she scolds. “I have no kids to take care of around here anymore. So hush,” She softens, smiling gently. “And let me do this for you. I’ll clear the mess out of your bedroom while you're gone today.”

“Thank you,” He whispers, wrapping her in a tight hug. “You’re the best.”

~

Work goes by quickly, his day filled with meetings and training the new assistant who will be taking his place. He’s required to finish his current projects before he leaves, so he’s extremely busy all day, which means he’s had no amount of time to really think about his newly single status and he’s certainly not had time to check his phone.

He finds out about the surprise office party that his manager, Nick, had planned for him on accident. Calvin being the one to accidentally spill the info at lunch. He loves his colleagues and he knows how much they believe in him and want him to succeed.

“Hey Harry,” Calvin says, as their leaving for the day. “I just wanted to say thank you. You've done great things for us and you're always fixing all my problems and helping me with our spreads. You know sometimes us sports guys don’t have the eyes that you guys have,” He laughs and Harry glances over at him with a smile. “Anyways, we’re really gonna miss you around here but I’m happy for you- that you’re moving onto bigger and better things. You really deserve it.”

“Wow, thank you Cal. I- I’m really gonna miss all of you but I think this is a great opportunity for me. And Myles is wonderful, he seems to be picking up on things already, even on his first day. I think you’ll like him a lot.”

Calvin looks down at the ground, cheeks pink and realization dawns on Harry. “You- you like him, don’t you? Oh my gosh, that’s so cute! Aw, Cal has a crush.”

“Shut up!” Calvin cackles, embarrassed, shoving Harry’s arm. “No need to yell about it, god. He’s cute, okay, leave me alone.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Harry tells him teasingly, just as Myles comes out the front doors of the building. “Oh shit, there he is.”

“Bye, Myles, see you tomorrow!” Harry shouts halfway across the parking lot, then whispers, “Act natural.”

“ _You’re_ the one not acting natural,” He whispers back.

“Bye guys!” Myles shouts back and Calvin just waves awkwardly.

“I take back everything nice I’ve ever said,” Calvin shakes his head but he’s smiling as he watches Myles fumble for his keys.

“You love me.”

“I’m leaving,” Calvin snorts and starts heading to his car.

He sees Myles look back shyly at him before getting in his car and leaving.

Harry doesn't know what Calvin’s talking about, he’s a wonderful matchmaker if Liam and Zayn are anything to go by.

When he gets home that evening, his mom and Gemma are sitting at the kitchen table while Robin is upstairs working.

His mom rushes to hug him immediately and Harry figures that means Gemma has already told her everything. Robin comes down a little later and they all eat dinner together. Harry finds out that Gemma came by because she’s on spring break from her teaching job, Robin talks about how he might be getting a promotion soon and his mom tells them about how she’s been thinking of her and Robin going on vacation for their four year wedding anniversary. No one asks him any questions about Chris and he could kiss them all with how thankful he is.

He can tell his mother has a few things to say about it but she waits until the next night, when it’s just the two of them sitting together on the back porch.

“How are you holding up?” She asks, voice laced with concern.

“I’m alright right now. I’m just- I don’t know how to explain how I feel right now. Part of me feels so heartbroken, you know? I was going to marry him, mom. I really thought we would last forever. But there’s this other part of me who feels lighter almost, like- like I can almost be a new person, have a new start and that part of me can’t wait to leave this city for awhile.”

“That makes sense, honey. I’m happy that you’ll have time away. I feel bad, you know, for not seeing this sooner.”

“Don’t be, mom. God, I didn’t even see it, not really. I knew things were strained between us but I didn’t realize how much anger I had built up until he made me choose. I guess in the end it’s sort of a good thing. Good that it didn’t happen after we had gotten married.”

His mom smiles at him sadly and wraps her arm around his shoulder, pulling him into her side.

“Love can be blind sometimes. Trust me, I know. I’ve had my fair share of heartache and what I’ve learned over time is that love isn't supposed to make you feel scared and trapped. Being with Robin has taught me a lot. I was scared to death to fall in love after your dad had left, and I know you're going to be scared after this as well,” She continues. “But love, it’s supposed to make you feel free.”

_Love is supposed to make you feel free._ Harry has no idea what that even means. He goes to sleep that night wondering if he’ll ever find out.

~

Harry arrives at London’s Heathrow airport bright and early on a windy day in late April. He’s jetlagged, irritable and his luggage got lost apparently. It’s just, things aren't going very well, at least not like he had thought they would. He shrugs his carry on over his shoulder and continues walking over to the service desk to try and figure out what exactly is going on.

That’s when, in more ways than one, Louis Tomlinson, quite literally, crashes into him and falls right into his lap.


	2. i’m into you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I have updated the notes on chapter one which apply to the fic as a whole so please read them! 
> 
> This is for Brooke and without her I probably wouldn’t have ever started it, so I love you so much. Never forget it! 
> 
> And to Ash, my amazing beta who literally puts up with so much nonsense from me. Thank you for sticking with me the whole month it took me to finish this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

—Chapter 2—

I’m Into You

**_“I got a feeling we are gonna win_ ** ****_  
_ **_Our bodies make it perfect_ ** ****_  
_ **_And your eyes can make me swim_ ** ****_  
_ **_Then again everything seems new_ ** ****_  
_ **_I can barely hold my tongue_ ** ****_  
_ **_To say the least I'm into you”_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_I’m into you - Chet Faker_

  


~

  


There’s a man on top of him. _In his lap._ There’s a man in his lap. 

“Shit!” The man exclaims, rubbing at his forearm. His voice is airy, a little bit panicked and very, very northern England. 

“Um,” Harry says dumbly. There’s a dull pain at the bottom of his spine from hitting the floor so hard and he thinks his wrist feels a bit sore as well. The man, who knocked him over and who is now sitting in his lap, looks over at him. He’s kind of sitting sideways and he’s sure they have to look like a ridiculous pile of limbs on the ground. Harry’s carry-on sits beside him, a few things have fallen out of the side pockets and the lady at baggage claim, who he really needs to speak with, glances over at them, biting on a smile.

For the most part, everyone else just passes them by without a second glance. How long have they been on the ground? A few seconds? Five minutes? 

Harry looks away from the moving crowds and into the man’s eyes now. Blue. Blue, blue, _blue_ eyes. He also has sharp, defined cheekbones you’d find on most models that Harry has worked with and the softest looking pixie hair. Harry kind of wants to run his fingers through the strands to find out if it’s as soft as it looks. 

He quickly shakes the thought and then he looks down. “Fuck!” The man finally seems to realize that his bum is directly on top of Harry’s crotch because he scrambles off and onto the floor. “I’m sorry! Oh god, I’m- My phone, shit, where’s my-” He pats around on the ground while Harry just sits there dumbfounded. 

He finds his phone and then inspects it for damage, and when he finds none, he presses it to his ear. “You still there?” He asks in an annoyed tone. 

Harry gapes at him. Because there’s no way he’s just going to sit here and finish his conversation with his legs still draped over Harry’s thighs. 

Apparently though, he is. 

“I was- Will you listen, please?” He huffs, running a hand through his incredibly soft looking hair. “No, I was telling you how mad I am at you for making me wait at the bloody airport for an hour and a half while you galavant around the city, but then,” He glances at Harry and bites down on his lip, eyebrows pinched. “Then this man ran _right_ into me. Trampled me, basically.” Harry didn’t think his mouth could actually drop further open, but it does. He goes to say _you ran into me, you little liar,_ but then he’s shaking his head and telling Harry to hush. Harry’s mouth closes. “Yeah, mate. Absolutely ridiculous day I've had,” he continues.

The incredibly _rude_ pixie’s head tips back seconds later, laughing brightly, and Harry can’t help but notice the tanned skin of his throat and the dip of his collarbones. “Someone tries to kill me and your first question is _was he cute at least_? You've got weird priorities, mate.” 

Harry smirks and quirks an eyebrow, shifting a little bit so he can reach for his belongings and put them back into his bag, his eyes still on the man. 

He smiles, eyeing Harry up and down, making Harry’s cheeks warm. “He’s not too bad, I suppose. Could possibly be better dressed, but this is the airport, so. I won’t hold it against him. He’s got curly hair.”

Who is this person? Where did they come from? Harry has so many questions.

“God, mate, you can’t just- I don’t know how the whole straight dating thing works but,” The man pauses to stand, _finally_ , and extends a hand to help Harry up. Now it’s Harry’s turn to check him out (it’s only fair) and he catches his eye after taking extra time to get a good survey on his curves. The man rolls his eyes. “But you can’t just go around asking people if they’re gay.”

Harry chokes on air, laughing breathlessly as he gets up. He’s really getting out of shape lately with how he’s been eating his mother’s cooking for the past couple weeks. The pixie (he needs to find out his name asap) has an eyebrow raised at him in question and Harry nods.

“Okay,” He says slowly into the phone, smirking again. “Well, I guess you can. With that being said, I should go. See you when I see you and good luck finding me when you get here because I’ll probably be hiding from you. Love ya, bye!” 

He turns to Harry then and yawns, putting the phone in his pocket and pulling his sleeves into sweater paws. He’s just so loud and maybe a little obnoxious, but he’s also gorgeous and funny, and Harry doesn’t know what to think about him. 

“Sorry about that. My friend is always late to the airport, every bloody time, and I was trying to make him feel bad about it so he would offer to buy me dinner. Worked like a charm,” He informs, then offers up his hand. “Louis,” He says with a nod, “So sorry you trampled all over me.” 

“Using me as a pawn, I see,” Harry grins and says, “Nice to meet you, Louis, my name’s Harry.” Then he chances a glance back at the lady at the desk who had been looking at him before, but she’s gone now. He sighs. 

“Not my fault you looked like easy prey. Now,” He says, hand outstretched towards Harry. He links their fingers together and tugs. “C’mon Harry, let’s get you a cuppa for your troubles.”

“A cup of what?” Harry asks, staring down at their intertwined fingers, staying in place.

“Tea. A _cuppa_.” Louis exaggerates by flailing his other arm a little. 

Harry frowns at him. “Tea,” He repeats. “Like a hot tea?”

Louis gives him a look, piercing blue eyes narrowing in on him. “Don’t tell me you’re a coffee drinker. You Americans and your lattes and cappuccinos and whipped creams. Bet you love a latte, don’t you?” 

“I mean. Well, I… yeah.“ Harry nods his head shyly, looking past Louis at the airport’s little cafe, watching all the people bustle around them. “But in my defense, we don’t drink that much tea in the states! And usually only if it’s iced, so I can’t be blamed for this.” 

Louis huffs, the air ruffling his hair. “Well, when in Rome,” He says decisively, and starts pulling on Harry’s hand again and Harry figures he’s definitely going to be having tea today if he follows Louis. He should be polite and follow. In fact, for some strange reason he does want to, but his bags have somehow disappeared. He _really_ needs to find out where they are.

“Wait. I- Um,” He clears his throat, gesturing behind him with his thumb. “My luggage is lost. I really should-”

Louis shakes his head and looks behind Harry pointedly. “That line is ridiculous. It usually slows after all the morning flights have come in. Just come with me,” He pouts. He fucking _pouts_ , lip poked out and everything. “Wanna make it up to you.”

“Okay well- I mean, I probably need it, anyways,” Harry sighs, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see that it’s only 9:30 in the morning and he technically has all day to get to his hotel and get settled. “Lead the way.” They both smile at each other and then Harry is being tugged into a small cafe off to the side near the baggage claim office. The line isn't very long in the little shop and when they get up to the front, Louis takes charge, ordering a tea for each of them.

Harry glances over at Louis while they're standing off to the side waiting on their orders to find Louis already looking back at him, smiling. Louis wiggles his eyebrows and Harry snorts. “You're used to getting whatever you want, aren't you? You know, normally,” Harry says, taking their hot teas from the lady behind the counter and thanking her. “Normally when you're trying to apologize for something with bribery, you get the other person what _they_ like, not what _you_ like.”

Louis laughs, that high and airy sound that makes Harry’s heart rate pick up. “I’m just trying to open your eyes to better things. In fact, you really should be thanking me,” He says, making Harry rolls his eyes. 

There’s an unoccupied table in the corner that they decide on and make their way over to. He likes the little cafe, how it’s a little bit off to the side and gives off a cozier vibe than the others he had seen.

“So,” Harry starts slowly, dropping his bag and sliding into the seat across from Louis. “I take it you live here in London, yeah?” He asks. He can still hear the bustle of people, but it feels nice and secluded where they are. 

Louis clears his throat before blowing on his tea. “Yep, been living here for a few years now. I was born up north in Doncaster,” Louis tells him. 

“I knew it,” Harry smiles, snapping his fingers excitedly. “There’s this guy from work back home. You two talk just alike. Maybe you know him!” 

Louis laughs again, tipping his head back and Harry grins. “Do you just think all British people automatically know each other?” 

“Hey,” Harry drawls out, “You never know. It was a very valid assumption,” He says, causing Louis to roll his eyes amusedly. 

“Okay then, try me, what’s his name?” 

Harry smiles and then confidently tells him, “Myles.” He watches Louis rests his cheek in his palm, rolling the name over in his head and then he looks over at Harry again. 

“Nope!” Louis says, laughing, most likely at Harry’s hopeful expression. “Can’t say I know anyone by that name. I do know someone from America though, quite a few people actually, maybe you’d know them-“

And now it’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes, “Okay! I get it, you dick.”

“Anyways,” Louis smiles, sipping his tea. Harry looks down and realizes he hasn’t touched his yet. “So where exactly are you from? You mentioned home, where exactly is that?”

“Oh,” Harry says, taking the lid off of his cup. “Chicago, actually. Been there my whole life. I’m just here for business.” 

Louis hums, “Oh nice, never been to Chicago. What do you do?” 

Harry looks down, feeling a strange sense of nerves at telling Louis what he actually does. What if Louis thinks it’s a _stupid hobby_ too? They _just_ met so he knows it’s a ridiculous and irrational fear, but he still can’t stop himself when he says, “Uh, I, um- work in sports marketing.” Harry automatically regrets it because Louis’ eyes light up. He technically didn't _lie_ seeing as GQ _is_ a men’s magazine and they report on some sports news and make advertisements, and he has definitely helped them countless times. But Harry still knows close to nothing about sports, at least not enough to pass as someone who is supposed to know about it for a living. 

“No way! That sounds sick! You have to travel a lot for that?”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty awesome job. Um, actually, not a whole lot, this is the first time I’ve traveled in awhile.” 

“I see,” Louis nods, then he looks down at Harry’s untouched tea and gives an unimpressed look. “Mate, it won’t bite you, just give it a try!” 

“But there’s milk in it,” Harry states.

“Yes, I did order it. Splash of milk, no sugar. What’s the issue?” 

“ _No_ _sugar_?” He frowns. 

Louis laughs, “You were there when I ordered it, babe.”

“I didn’t catch that part,” Harry huffs, completely ignoring the way his stomach flips a little at Louis calling him ‘babe’ and picks up the tea. “Fine, I’ll try it. But what if I hate it, will you get me a coffee?”

Louis scoffs, sipping from his cup again. “Fine,” He says as Harry takes a drink, blanching a little at how bland it tastes. “You know- No, don’t even tell me you hate it.”

“It needs some sugar, Louis. I mean, it’s just- it’s got no flavor, really.” 

Before Louis can retort, someone calls Louis’ name from behind the counter. 

“Wait, you ordered food?” Harry asks, confusedly. Louis rolls his eyes as he stands up and makes his way over to the lady who’s holding a tray of food. Harry decides he has about fifteen seconds to make his tea drinkable without Louis noticing, since clearly it’s an important subject to him. As his back is turned and he’s grabbing their food, thanking the women and grabbing them some extra napkins, Harry grabs three packets of sugar from the condiments holder at their table and opens them all at once, dumping them into his tea as quickly as possible. He doesn’t have time to dispose of the papers before Louis is already on his way back over, humming along to the song playing throughout the space. He crumbles up the empty packets in his hand. 

“I got you a blueberry muffin. I hope that’s okay. I mean- you said it was okay, but clearly you weren't paying any attention up there, so.” 

“I’m sorry. I just- I've got a lot on my mind, I guess. Also yes, blueberry is great, I’m starving. And thank you, by the way. You didn't have to do all this.” He smiles, pulling apart his muffin. 

Louis tilts his head, eyes narrowing in on Harry’s fist. He hums, “Not a problem. What’s that in your hand?” 

“Oh uh.” Harry smiles innocently. “Nothing, nothing at all. Anyways-“

Louis shakes his head, smirking, then cuts Harry off. “I saw you dump a god awful amount of sugar in that tea, Harry. I do have eyes, you know.” 

“Ugh,” Harry sighs, defeated. He tosses the crumpled paper right at Louis’ stupidly perfect face. “Your back was turned. That’s not fair!” 

Louis smiles, shrugging, and leans back in his seat. “My x-ray vision must be working extraordinarily well today.” 

Harry can’t believe how weird it is that they just met, yet he feels so much calmer then he had before. Louis is like a breath of fresh air after the month he’s had. 

They talk awhile longer about Louis’ obvious tea addiction where he tells Harry that he’d make Harry out to be a true Englishman if they had time, to which Harry says he would never allow that to happen. Unfortunately they only have about half an hour until Harry _has_ to go get his bags. 

“So, what _were_ you thinking about? Something going on? I mean- we don’t know each other so obviously you don’t have to tell me anything but-” He shrugs. “I don’t mind if you wanna talk.”

Harry sighs, smiling weakly. “Just, you know, coming on this business trip. I haven't really traveled too much these past few years, just a little here and there, so I’m nervous,” Harry says looking down and fidgeting with the paper wrapped around his cup. “Also, something happened recently, something- uh, personal. So, I've been staying with family. I’m just gonna miss them all a lot.” And god, his studio. He’ll miss his studio so much. He almost cried when he had to lock it up for the last time before he had left for his flight. 

Over the past two weeks he’s been there as much as possible. It’s been a safe haven for him, a place in his life where Chris had never touched. And to just be able to go there and lose himself in designing and sketching, sometimes staying until the sun had started to rise, was exactly what he needed to remind himself that he did make the right decision. It’s not that he was avoiding his family because he had still ate dinner with them every night, enjoying Gemma’s company when she would come by, but he didn't want to answer questions about Chris anymore or be forced to figure out when he was going to go and get all of his things packed up from their house. He was stuck between wanting to stay with his mom whenever he could and wanting to get away and clear his head. 

It’s been complete radio silence from Chris besides one single text he received three days after the break up, simply asking if they could talk. Harry never replied and Chris hadn’t tried again. 

Louis is quiet for a few moments, biting at the inside of his cheek, eyes far off and distant. Harry doesn't ask about it. “Right. Yeah, I mean that would be really tough... How long will you be away?”

“About two months of going all around the globe. Then it’s back home,” He smiles and Louis does too.

“Tell me about them.” Harry looks up from his plate, watching as Louis watches his tongue dart out of his mouth at a crumb. 

“Who?” Harry asks, completely ignoring the blush that spreads on Louis’ cheeks from being caught staring at his lips.

Louis clears his throat before speaking. The fact that Harry is affecting him like that makes his stomach swoop because Louis is the one that is so _gorgeous_. “Your family. Tell me about them. We’ve got some time to kill and your eyes lit up when you mentioned them so, I figured maybe you’d want to talk about them. Might help with your nerves.”

So Harry does. And it _does_ help, in fact, he forgets about his fucked up home situation (or lack of a home) for awhile, just going on and on as Louis listens, throwing in his own little stories and commentary here and there. He tells Louis about Gemma and how much she loves teaching her elementary school kids. He tells him how he’s even gone to see them a few times and how he always brings them treats if he can manage. Louis, in return, tells him about how sometimes his friend takes him to fancy dinner parties and that he always steals treats and bring them home. Harry tells him that only one of their stories is actually honorable and it’s not Louis’. 

Of course he talks about his mom and about the things they've done over the past couple weeks together that they hadn't in so long, like watch horrible reality television like _Love Island_ (which Louis scoffs at) and one time they had even painted each other’s nails on a night when Harry was too tired to go to the studio. 

When he tells Louis about Zayn and Liam, it’s Louis’ turn to talk about his best friend too. He talks about how they had just come home from a trip where they had visited some friends and Louis had stayed a couple extra days which was why he was being picked up. 

Once he’s finished telling a story about how they had gone on a small hike (which Louis said was an absolutely horrible decision) Harry just can’t help but ask, “So, what about your family?”

Louis doesn't freeze up, but he comes really close to it. “Uh- that’s,’ He laughs nervously. “That’s boring stuff, Harry. Trust me, I’d just bore you if I talk about that. Nothing really interesting to tell.”

Harry’s eyebrows crease in the middle and he wants to ask why Louis is acting so strange all of a sudden. But Louis’ phone dings beside him. “Oh,” He says. “I better- I should go. My ride's here.” 

Harry doesn’t want him to go. “Of course,” He breathes, a reality check that this is a complete stranger. “Yeah, yeah. Uh, well,” Harry stutters, watching Louis gather up his trash and throw it away. “I’ll see you, I guess.” Even though he knows that’s not true. 

Louis’ standing there, bag in hand. His eyes snap up from Harry’s lips again and he looks like he’s contemplating saying something, but he shakes his head a little. “Yeah, it was nice meeting you Harry,” He says, tone fond. 

And then he turns and walks away. Harry hates to admit that he watches him go as he disappears into the crowd.

~

Harry does get his luggage eventually, all 4 suitcases (stuffed full, too, just in case) and finally makes it to his hotel in Knightsbridge, just outside of all of London’s famous attractions. 

It’s absolutely gorgeous, like straight out of a magazine gorgeous, courtesy of Gucci, with deep burgundy walls with gold accents that feel royal and sophisticated, a marble bathroom with the biggest bathtub he’s ever seen and a huge king size bed. It’s like it suddenly hits him that he works for fucking _Gucci_ and this is his life now. 

He drops all his bags down in the separate living room area, figuring he can deal with the mess after a much needed soak in the bathtub. The first thing he does is walk over and open the glass door that leads to the balcony, breathing in deeply as the slight wind carries up the smell of pastries from a shop down below and faint music from the hotel restaurant to the right. 

Tomorrow is a huge day for him because he meets with _Niall Horan_ for the first time for lunch just up the street, he thinks he can actually see it from here on the 9th story, just a small pub, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t crawling out of his skin with nerves. He’s heard from multiple people how incredible of a person Niall is and how down to earth he comes across to everyone he meets ( _it’s that ridiculous Irish charm_ , Cara had said the other day) so Harry is confident that they’ll be okay, but there’s always doubt, especially when traveling so closely with someone new. After their lunch, he’ll be styling Niall for a shoot at London’s GQ and that shoot will be in next month’s issue which is unbelievable for him to even think about. 

The streets below are crowded and Harry watches them, leaning his head against the doorframe, thinking of the fact that he really needs to call his mom and maybe even Zayn and Liam if he doesn’t want an earful later. For a moment he wonders where Louis might be now, and then he even, for just a split second, wonders if Louis was only a figment of his jet-lag fueled imagination. It’s quite possible with how his life has been going relationship wise, that he’d dream up some ridiculously beautiful, smart mouthed, sarcastic, blue eyed man and then he’d just disappear into thin air. Louis was so intriguing and mysterious, Harry thinks, because he had practically told him his life story and in return, he had hardly learned anything about Louis at all.

He shakes the thoughts and sighs, tearing himself from the window and turning around to grab one of his suit cases, opening it up to search for something nice to put on, deciding that if he’s not too exhausted he might check out the city later. He grabs a black and white polka dot _Saint Laurent_ button up and some black skinny jeans and then heads to the bathroom. 

After his lengthy bubble bath, he gets dressed, leaving his curls loose and throws on his outfit. He decides to try out the bed, laying down and checking his messages. He’s got six messages from Zayn alone telling him all sorts of things including that Harry owes him several souvenirs and even a message from Liam wishing him a safe trip here. His mom has sent multiple messages as well and he goes to reply to all of them, telling them he’s alive and that he’s made it to his hotel. There’s nothing from Chris and Harry almost feels a little bit relieved at that, not really ready to talk with him yet. He goes to check out some of the things he can do in London later on, but his eyes feel heavy and he doesn’t mean to, but he falls asleep scrolling through the pages.

~

Harry wakes up slowly, disoriented, and the room is dark, only the light from the city seeping in. He turns over, rubbing at his eyes and stretching, uncomfortable considering what he had accidentally fallen asleep in. 

He reaches for his phone and groans when he sees that he’s slept for almost four hours and that it’s now nine o’clock at night. He lays there, starfished on the bed for a few minutes, before making the decision that he desperately needs food. He remembers how delicious the menu had looked for the restaurant downstairs and he hops up, slipping on his boots and grabbing some money out of his wallet and his key card before he starts making his way there.

The lobby area of _The Hari_ hotel is like nothing Harry has ever seen in a hotel before, and if he’s honest, he feels slightly out of place, like he isn't even supposed to be here. It’s not that Chris hadn’t taken him to any luxurious places because they'd been on some really nice vacations, including the one where Chris had proposed, but he had never been to a hotel where the minimum price per night was around eight hundred dollars. It’s sleek, with lots of glass and gold and dark colors and he could easily take inspiration from it for his own work if he wasn't so exhausted. 

He walks past the front desk, passing up the cozy looking sitting area that’s complete with a small bookshelf and dark lighting that makes it feel warm and homey, and he’s surprised to see so few people around. He keeps going until he reaches the hotel’s restaurant, deciding that he’ll go ahead and eat on the terrace to enjoy the view of the city. He gets seated in an extremely comfortable cushioned chair outside in front of a wall filled with lanterns. It’s gorgeous, yet he’s almost too caught up in his own head to really enjoy it. 

He does, however, like the quiet, peacefulness he feels from eating alone and it definitely helps his mood that the waitress is fantastic, even at the late hour, and he eats his food quickly, knowing they’ll be closing up in just forty five minutes. 

When he’s done, he tips generously, and heads back towards the lobby, but on his way he sees a figure out of the corner of his eye that makes him stop dead in his tracks. 

And see, the thing is that Harry knows he’s exhausted and could definitely use about seven more hours of sleep, but, well, he’s not on the brink of insanity. At least, he didn’t think he was. Except. 

That’s _definitely_ Louis. No question about it. He’s leaning up against the front desk, expression bored, twirling around a key card with one hand and his hip popped out, and a red sucker between his lips. He's got on ridiculously tight jeans and a soft looking gray top. He’s unfairly curvy and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking, but he’s got eyes, after all. It’s not like Louis hadn’t spent the morning staring at Harry’s lips, so. 

He almost thinks about trying to sneak past, but it would probably be impossible anyways, and honestly he would like to talk to Louis again. He thinks about sneaking up behind him, but ultimately decides on just walking up next to him and leaning against the desk. 

“You following me?” He jokes lightly, and Louis almost jumps a foot, dropping his sucker on the floor.

“ _Harry,_ look what you’ve done! You’re lucky there’s a bowl of candy in my room,” He huffs, bending down to pick it up and put it into the nearby trash can. When he comes back, Harry can see how his lips are cherry red. 

“I didn’t get any candy in my room! How’s that fair?” Harry counters, smiling as he rests his arm on the counter. Louis gets that smirk on his face, pulling at the bottom of his shirt that had ridden up from bending down, a little bit of tan skin on display. 

Harry’s eyes snap up and Louis definitely notices. “Yeah well, when you know people, it comes in handy.” 

Whoever Louis knows, clearly he’s not about to tell Harry so Harry steers the conversation. “What are you doing here anyways? I thought you lived in London.”

“Nosey, nosey,” Louis tuts, looking around again in annoyance when he sees no employees. “I’m here because it was free and Ni- my best mate’s got this thingy tomorrow,” He says waving his hand dismissively. “What are _you_ doing here fancy pants? Guess sports marketing pays you well.” He eyes Harry up and down, much like he did earlier that morning, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Guess you could say that.” Harry notes how much more flirty Louis is being now than he was this morning and his stomach is in knots over it. 

“Clean up pretty nice. Better than your airport look,” He says softer now, leaning in and he’s so, so much closer. Harry could count his long, thick eyelashes.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, whispering, smiling like an idiot. He knows it’s been a long time since he’s tried to chat someone up, but he hasn’t forgotten how and it’s exhilarating knowing that Louis is flirting back. Zayn and Liam would be equal parts proud and worried. 

“Mhm.” Louis moves a delicate hand to swipe the hair on his forehead out of his eyes. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, you know. Earlier I was gonna ask, uh, see you if you wanted to,” he steps closer as he bites his lip, lashes dipping to brush his cheekbones, “to hang out longer but… but I didn’t know if you’d want to.”

“Yeah, I- I would. It’s just-“

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Tomlinson.” A man cuts in, coming from a room behind the desk, and it’s Harry’s turn to startle, moving so there’s a healthy amount of space between them again. Was he about to kiss Louis? God, what the hell is he even doing? 

Harry takes a deep breath as he then realizes that he doesn’t even know why Louis had been standing here this whole time. 

“That’s fine, Peter. It’s no rush, honestly,” He smirks, glancing towards Harry and then back at the man as he moves to the space in front of them. He can almost see the wheels turning in Louis’ head and Harry has no idea what it means.

The man, _Peter_ , looks up at Louis and smiles shyly, a little flustered if Harry is reading him correctly and really, Harry can relate. He clicks a few buttons on his computer and then clears his throat. “Okay, I just need your old key and I’ll be able to set up the new one. Again, I’m so sorry it wasn’t working.” 

Louis bites his lip, touching his hair again and, wait. Is he…? Is Louis flirting with Peter? 

What a stupid name, Peter. He’s not even that good looking, like, objectively speaking, he has really nice blonde hair and blue eyes, but Louis could probably do better. Harry isn’t saying that _he’s_ better or anything. He’s definitely not saying that. 

“It’s okay, love. It’s totally not your fault.” Louis seems to be doing just about any trick in the book to make Peter blush. 

Peter giggles even though absolutely nothing is funny. And Louis smiles at him while looking up from under his lashes, taking the new card as Peter hands it over. Harry watches Louis’ profile, the cut of his cheekbones, the dip of his little nose, the way his wrists flick when he talks. He really can’t _help_ but stare when Louis is one of the most gorgeous and intriguing people he’s met in a long, long time, maybe ever. He doesn’t mean to be so attracted to him, considering everything that’s happened with Chris. But honestly, it feels kind of good to flirt with someone new, someone different who actually gives him his full attention when he’s telling a story. He thinks of their conversation from earlier, how Louis couldn’t stop looking at his lips, how he had listened so attentively when Harry spoke about his family. It had been so refreshing. 

Harry doesn’t like whatever that feeling is that’s in his stomach, though, when he sees that Peter is looking at Louis in the same way he has been. 

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Tomlinson. If you need _anything_ at all, please let me know,” He responds coyly. He’s completely ignored Harry’s presence this entire time. Which, _rude_. He could have needed something too. He doesn’t, but he could have. 

“Will do. Thank you so much.” Louis turns around, looking at Harry briefly, for the first time since Peter had greeted him, and starts walking towards the elevators. He’s got the tiniest little smirk on his face when he turns back to Harry and gestures for him to follow. Harry does, only because he’s already going that way, of course. 

When he catches up to him, Louis turns a little as he skips down the hall and says, “Real nice guy, that Peter, don’t you think?”

Harry squints at him and huffs, walking next to him down the hall. “Yeah, real nice if you like total douchebags.”

Louis has the nerve to laugh. “He wasn’t,” He rolls his eyes. Okay, he wasn’t. But, still. “Harsh words for someone who got me a new key card.”

“I mean, it’s not like it was all that hard. I probably could have fixed it.” 

“Oh, I see. So this isn’t about Peter. This is about _you_ being jealous,” He comments matter-of-factly as he presses the up button for the elevator and then leans up against the wall with his arms crossed, almost like a challenge.

“Jealous of him? Yeah, right,” Harry scoffs, stepping closer, right into Louis’ space. “Maybe you were trying to make me jealous.”

Louis’ eyes are dark, the lights above them illuminating his tan skin and pinkish red lips. He feigns the picture of innocence when he says, “I wasn’t doing anything like that. You can’t prove it.” 

The bell above them dings, pulling Harry from his trance just a little and when the doors open, they step inside together. Louis turns to him and asks, “Floor number?” 

Harry eyes him. “Nine,” He says softly as he steps inside, noting the floor to ceiling mirrors and low lighting paired with quaint music playing softly above them.

Louis presses thirteen. He tilts his head, hair falling down into his eyes. “My room is probably a lot better, especially at night, you can _really_ see everything from there,” He licks his lips, “Bigger bed, too, I’m sure.” 

Harry has a lot of red flags going up in his mind, flashing at him at lightning speed, but Louis is the most tempting little thing he’s ever seen. “Is it now?” 

Louis hums, “Mhm.” The elevator climbs, passing his floor. 

“You just gotta admit _you_ were trying to make me jealous, and I’ll come check it out.” 

Louis scoffs. “I can’t help it, Harry, if the boys are just falling all over me, now can I?” 

“That’s fair,” He plays along, laughing in disbelief of this insane man. “And what will Peter think if I come to your room?” Harry asks smugly. 

Louis grins, eyes twinkling. “Peter who?” 

~

Harry, of course, goes to floor thirteen where he comes to find out that Louis has an absolutely filthy mouth. It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. 

He’s being pushed right up against the hotel room door as soon as they’re both inside. Harry’s stomach explodes in butterflies when his head hits the door and Louis is on him, breathing against his neck. He smells incredible, like cinnamon and vanilla, and he’s radiating so much heat that he’s burning Harry up through his shirt.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes out, warm air working it’s way up and behind Harry’s ear, causing his eyes to flutter. “Always wanted to do that.” 

Harry can’t help but laugh breathlessly at that. “What? Slam me up against a door?” Harry asks a bit dumbly. He feels drunk and he hasn’t had a single ounce of alcohol today. 

Louis lifts his head. His eyes are shining, he senses some amusement there, and if Harry actually knew Louis he might think that the lip caught between his teeth is nerves, but Louis doesn’t seem like the type to get nervous. “Well.” He moves both hands from where they had been resting on the door by Harry’s hips and places them both on either side of his head. Harry gulps. “I meant in general. But yeah, ever since I saw you I definitely wanted to do this.” 

He leans in, making a claim of Harry’s mouth. It’s one of the best first kisses he’s ever had and he thinks it’s only because of the feeling it gives him. It’s not _just_ the butterflies or the way Louis moves to hold his face with one hand, it’s how his stomach drops ten stories and his heart tries to beat right out of his chest. It’s the way Louis’ body feels against his skin, how he tastes like a cherry lollipop.

It’s also the way Louis’ lips are smaller than his, but they slot together perfectly. Louis kisses him like they’re not strangers, like they’ve known each other for years, like they’ve just gone on a date for the thousandth time and this is just what happens when they get home. 

Louis also kisses him like he’s never met him, with his hands flying all over Harry’s body as he deepens it, like he doesn’t really know what Harry likes. 

And he doesn’t, not at all, but he makes a damn good guess when his hand stops and slowly, without breaking their kiss, unbuttons two of the buttons on Harry’s shirt, exposing his butterfly tattoo. He then sneaks a hand inside and starts playing with Harry’s nipple. It’s sudden and there’s so much sensation all at once that Harry can’t help the small moan he releases, dropping his head back against the door again. “ _Shit.”_ He curses under his breath. 

Whatever he did was _right_ because Louis groans, fitting their hips together just right and pressing Harry that much further into the door. “Yeah, babe.” Louis licks a stripe up his neck, flicks his thumb over Harry’s nipple again and he’s _everywhere_ all at once. “You’re so fucking hot. C’mon, bed.” 

Harry seems to come back to Earth then, getting some of his wits about him as Louis grips his hand and leads him to the bed. As they step past the dining area, Harry’s brain is on a loop of questions. 

_Am I about to sleep with a stranger in a foreign city? Am I actually about to have a one night stand? Only two weeks after calling my engagement off?_

Louis’ in a two bedroom penthouse suite and it’s _nice_ , not that his isn’t, but this one is pretty incredible in the dark with only the moonlight shining in. They pass by the first bed, presumably Louis’ best friend he had mentioned, and make their way to the second one that’s near the huge floor to ceiling windows. Louis’ hand is firm and grounding as he yanks Harry down right on top of him and smiles, blinking up at him with bright eyes and bitten lips. 

Harry isn’t sure how many times he’s thought about how gorgeous Louis is today; It’s got to be nearing thirty or forty, but right now takes the cake. Not only are his lips red and swollen, but his eyelashes look even longer now when they’re up this close. 

Then Louis giggles and Harry quirks a brow at him, amused. “Something funny?”

“No,” Louis huffs, but he’s still smiling. “You’re just- uh, staring at me. Want you to kiss me.” 

Harry does kiss him, a peck, before saying, “Well, you _are_ very pretty, so who’s really to blame.”

Louis kisses him again. “You’re funny, you know. I was- god, I was having a shit week, a shit _month_ to be honest with you, and I just- I think I needed this. Some fun without having to really worry about it tomorrow. Just getting out of my head for a little bit,” Louis rambles, but Harry doesn’t mind because the words sound nice. _Getting out of his head_ is probably what he needs too. All he thought about on his flight over was how he may be able to take a break from his life at home for awhile, but when he arrives in Chicago in two and a half months things will be right back to how they were. Of course he loves spending time with his family, but _living_ with them again after years of being on his own is another thing entirely.

“I get what you mean,” Harry agrees, looming over him still. “I’ve had the worst month ever. And I’m just nervous because I haven’t really- uh. I haven’t...” He feels a bit tense now, biting his lip as he looks at Louis’ expectant gaze. All the doubt flashes in his mind again, wondering if he’s making a mistake. He can’t believe Chris can unknowingly have the power to make him feel guilty about this when he’s not doing anything wrong. 

“You’re a virgin?” Louis asks with his eyebrows pinched together. 

Harry snorts, dropping his body all the way flush against Louis’. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I’m not a virgin. I just- fuck, I _just_ got out of a relationship. Literally like two weeks ago and being here with you, it’s so- so weird? Not like you’re weird, but-“

“Hey, listen,” Louis interrupts. “I’ve never really- I’ve never been in a relationship,” He says and Harry can’t say he’s not surprised. Louis seems like the kind of guy that men would fight tooth and nail to be with and to keep. “So I can’t say that I know how you’re feeling but like- obviously you’re only here for a couple days and then we’re both leaving to wherever and we don’t know each other, right? So we’re just two adults having fun. Safe, consensual fun with no strings attached,” He continues, bringing up both arms to play with the curls at the back of Harry’s neck, sending a small and hopefully unnoticeable shiver down Harry’s spine. Then he stops and stares up at Harry seriously. “Unless you think- that like, you might get back together? Because I don’t want to fuck that up for you.”

Harry thinks about the last year of his life and he really doesn’t think he wants to go back to that _ever_ and honestly, he doesn’t think he will. He doesn’t see how his relationship with Chris could be saved when Chris himself didn’t even try to understand where Harry was coming from. He thinks of all the times he had waited up for his ex to come home, only to fall asleep before he’d get there, all the times he made Harry feel less than for his line of work, and all the times he had cancelled their plans in favor of something work related. “I don’t think that’ll happen. It ended pretty badly. And it still hurts a lot, probably will for a little while, but I have to get over it, you know.”

“Yeah… I get it. I’m okay with being your little rebound or whatever,” Louis shrugs.

“Hey, no. That’s not- I’m not looking for a rebound. Remember, we’re just having fun.” 

Louis licks his lips, smiling up at him. “My mate, the one I’m here with, he told me I really need to start ‘living in the moment’,” his hands drop from Harry’s neck to form air quotes, “and that’s just a bunch of bullshit, right? Because who even says stuff like that honestly, but I had just lost my apartment because I lost my job and so he forced me to come with him to get me out of my own head and also because I don’t really have anywhere to go. Anyways, now it’s like it makes sense.”

“I’m sorry,” He says, moving Louis’ hair out of his face. “Sorry you’ve had such a hard time lately.”

“It’s okay,” He smiles a little sadly. “He’s gonna let me stay with him for awhile. He doesn’t want me to- um, to have to struggle.” 

“Sounds like a good friend you’ve got,” Harry comments, sort of squeaks, offhandedly as Louis tugs him down and starts kissing up his neck and over his jaw and then reaches a hand down to palm over his cock through his jeans.

“Don’t wanna talk about him anymore, okay? Just want you to fuck me.” Louis breathes it into his mouth before pressing his body up again, making Harry groan. Then he bites right into the plushness of his bottom lip.

“But wait,” Harry interrupts, pulling his body up to look at Louis seriously. “One more thing, we- well, god this is ridiculous. We hadn’t had sex in a long time. At least not like _all the way_ , in quite some time and I swear to you I’m not shallow, okay, because this is definitely not why we broke up _at all._ He just wasn’t a big fan- he didn’t really like- uh, well... _you_ _know_...”

Louis smirks, lightening the mood immediately and eyes twinkling. “I don’t actually think I do know, love. He didn’t like what? Do you just really suck in bed or-“ Harry gasps, pinching at his sides, laughing as Louis squirms up the bed giggling and flailing away. “Feels like you’re packin’ down there, but you don’t know what to do with it, babe?“ He laughs louder when Harry is looming over him again, biting down his neck. He tries to reach for the pillow by his head, but Harry loops his fingers around Louis’ wrist before he can reach it. “I swear to god if you don’t stop-“ Louis does stop the minute Harry has his wrist pinned to the bed. He smirks and does the same exact thing to the other hand so that they’re both resting on either side of his head. Louis’ giggly, playful demeanor is knocked away as he blinks up at Harry, eyes dark blue and glassy.

Louis sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and rolls his hips up to meet Harry’s and they both let out a small moan at the friction, and Harry figures he’ll deal with his guilty conscience tomorrow.

“Can I?” He drops one of Louis’ wrists and trails a hand down, stopping right at the soft skin of Louis’ hip where his shirt is riding up. When Louis nods, Harry spreads out his fingers and takes a shaky breath, feeling the skin of his soft tummy under his palm. Louis helps him out, freeing his other arm and pulling off the shirt in one swift movement to reveal his chest and collarbones, perfectly golden. 

“God,” Harry manages, curling a hand around Louis’ waist and leaning forward to kiss him. They’re tongues slide together and it’s electrifying and new like something he doesn’t think he’s felt in a long time. 

“Are you sure though? Just want you to be sure. Don’t want you regret it.” Louis’ hands fidget with the bottom of his top. 

If he were to think about it, really think about it, he’s not sure. He doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing or why he’s doing it, but well, living in the moment. That’s exactly what he plans on doing tonight and at the moment his dick is painfully hard and has been for at least half an hour.

“Yeah, yeah,” He says, leaning back onto his knees so he can sit up and take his top off. He tosses it to the side and then goes straight for the button on Louis’ jeans. “Wanna see you. Wanna suck you off.”

Louis whines, a high pitched and needy sound, wiggling his hips a little to help Harry get his jeans and boxers off. Harry feels like he’s itching to get out of his own jeans so as Louis is yanking his clothes the rest of the way off, Harry gets to work on his own belt and pants.

He gets his first good look at Louis then, laying naked beneath him. The ‘ _It Is What It Is’_ inked across his upper chest, the soft curve of his waste, the tiniest pudge of his tummy, and his cock laying hard and heavy against his stomach. Harry strokes himself a few times after he’s stumbled his way out of his clothes, making Louis giggle. 

Louis seems to be feeling the same type of awe that he is though, because his eyes are darker now when they lock with Harry’s and they’re so full of lust when they flicker down to watch Harry stroke his own length leisurely. 

Louis huffs adorably at him, “I’m not just some piece of meat for you to ogle at,” He makes grabby hands for Harry’s waist. “Get down here.” 

“You’re just.. gorgeous,” He breathes, as he leans down and connects their lips. Louis melts into it, hands roaming all over his body, first up and down his sides and then over his stomach, stopping at the laurel tattoos at his hips.

“These,” Louis breaks the kiss, breathing hotly against Harry’s cheek. “These are so hot,” He rasps, voice shot, as Harry starts leaving open mouthed kisses all along his jaw and down his neck. Harry can’t get over how fucking incredible Louis’ skin feels, how he smells, how gloden and _perfect_ he is. Louis’ hands grip at his sides, rocking up into him and Harry gasps at the feeling of their cocks sliding together for the first time. “Shit,” Louis whines. One of his small hands slide down to wrap around Harry and he can’t stop the moan that rips right out of his throat. “God, you’re fucking big, babe. _So_ fucking- let me suck your cock, _please_ , let me-“

Harry groans, moving from the bruise that’s now forming right above Louis’ collarbone and licks right into Louis’ mouth. He bites into the flesh of his bottom lip before diving back in. Louis runs his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock, pressing into the slit and he’s _so_ sensitive already, he has no idea how he’s going to last once he’s inside him. “ _Louis_ ,” He whines and then moves his hand down, the other one straining to hold him up, and knocks Louis’ hand away, taking both of their cocks in his hand. The feeling of them both pressed together is incredible and he’s sweating now, skin prickling all over with the anticipation of getting his mouth on Louis. “Thought I was supposed to suck you off. Wanna taste you.” 

“Yes,” Louis huffs, reaching up and yanking at the hair at the back of Harry’s head. “But you’re so bloody _slow_ , so maybe I should take over, huh?” Harry stares down at him, jaw slack at Louis’ tone. His voice is rough and completely wrecked, but he’s also confident and sure as he quirks an eyebrow at Harry, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “That what you want? Me to show you how it’s done?”

That makes Harry snap out of it, his eyes snapping up from Louis’ mouth. He grips them tighter, the slide is getting less and less rough, with precome making each flick of his wrist smoother. He could come just like this, can feel the pull of it low in his stomach.

“Don’t need you to show me a damn thing,” He breathes roughly. He kisses Louis again because he honestly can’t resist how pink and shiny his lips are and Louis kisses him back fervently, deepening it and scratching at Harry’s shoulders. Louis rocks up into it _hard_ , harder than Harry can handle. It makes him gasp, his left arm giving out, pressing their sweat slick chests flush together. It would be way too embarrassing for him to come right now, before he even gets a chance to be inside Louis and the thought makes him slowly let them both go. Louis whines right into his mouth, the sound driving him absolutely insane. 

“I got you, okay. Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He kisses back down Louis’ neck, stopping to lap his tongue over Louis’ nipple making him whimper, then he makes his way down to soft flesh at Louis’ stomach. Louis recoils a little, moving his hands from Harry’s hair to cover himself. 

Harry can’t help but find him so fascinating, the way he has so many layers, from cocky and strong to soft and sweet, the way Harry wants to know all of them. He shakes his head a little at the thought, pushing it as far back as possible. 

“Hey, none of that now,” He chides, pulling at Louis’ hands and pressing them on either side of his hips. “Don’t know,” he kisses right below right below his belly button, “how many times,” another kiss just left of the last one, “I’ve gotta tell you,” and another on the other side, “how fucking gorgeous I think you are,” He finishes.

Louis sighs heavily. “Okay, okay... Sorry,” He says, letting his eyes shut. Harry moves lower to where Louis’ cock is lying heavily against his stomach, tip an angry red. He decides he’s done teasing and licks a stripe from Louis’ balls all the way to the head, taking him halfway down. “ _Harry_ , fuck.” Harry watches him lift his head, fingers twisting in the sheets with his lip caught between his teeth. Harry swirls his tongue around the head, eyes rolling back at the taste of Louis, bittersweet, and Louis’ legs fall apart even wider. 

Harry keeps bobbing his head, relaxing his throat as he takes more and more. He wraps his left arm around Louis’ right thigh, hoisting it up so he can run a finger down to Louis’ hole. He circles it, feeling how _hot_ Louis is here. “Harry, please, need you to- _lube_ , get the lube,” He gasps a little as Harry presses in some, just the tiniest bit, still sucking him down, Louis’ cock hitting the back of his throat. “In my suitcase on the f-floor. Need m-more, baby, come on.” 

Harry lifts off, removing his finger and dropping Louis’ leg. He shuffles off the bed to find four different bags on the floor, lined up next to each other. “Uh, okay, which one?” 

“Green one. Side pocket,” Louis says from the bed. He’s unreal, with blown out eyes, biting at his thumbnail and the other hand stroking his cock slowly, legs spread. He speeds his hand up, arching his back a little, letting out little huff of air and Harry shakes his head. “Fuck, okay, I’m getting it,” He breathes. 

He finds the green bag quickly and searches in the side pocket, finding a small bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He grabs the lube and a couple condoms, just in case, and climbs back up onto the bed, settling back between Louis’ legs. Louis wiggles around, settling into the mattress with a content hum. “I’m ready,” He says, confidence back full force. 

Harry, on the other hand, has no idea how he’s meant to survive this. He sets the condoms down, breathing deeply as he uncaps the bottle, squeezing some onto three fingers. He wants to _see_ , he really, really wants to see so he spreads Louis’ legs a little more, lifting one up again, pressing it all the way up almost to his stomach. “Beautiful,” He whispers, eyes roaming over Louis’ body until they land at his face. He presses his middle finger back to Louis’ hole, circling it again, trying to get Louis used to the cool temperature of the lube. 

“ _Please_ ,” Louis begs, “I swear I’ll do it myself if you don’t come on.” 

Harry doesn’t want that _at all_ . He wants to do this part more than anything, probably. ( _It’s not even really the fun part. The prep is always boring, don’t you think?_ Chris had said to him once. Harry had actually agreed back then.) 

“Bossy,” He mutters good naturedly. 

Boring isn’t exactly the word Harry would use though, not when he presses one finger in, up to the second knuckle, taking Louis’ cock into his mouth at the same time, and Louis keens high in his throat. “Yeah, yeah, god yes, your fingers, more,” He babbles, pulling at Harry’s hair again.

Boring isn’t at all what Harry is thinking when he sees Louis uncurl his fingers from where they were gripping the sheets and wraps both hands around the back of his thighs, nails digging into the soft skin there, and holds them in place. Harry lifts up running a hand up and down Louis’ leg as he pulls out his finger so that he can go back in with two this time. 

His other hand finds Louis’ tummy and his palm spans out across the expanse of it and Louis doesn’t flinch away this time, but he can feel his breath catch as he stretches out around Harry’s fingers. He waits a second, making sure it’s not hurting anymore and then starts moving them, scissoring them, and Louis, who had been watching Harry, drops his head back and let’s go of his own legs. Harry leans down and mouths at the moon shaped indents his nails left on both sides. “Another finger, please.” Louis’ voice is raw and pleading, and such a mystery, Harry thinks, Louis not seeming like the type to beg so much. Harry is past asking questions. 

When Harry does insert a third finger, after teasing him for a little while longer, Louis is _loud_ . Like, if this wasn’t a private suite in a secluded area of the hotel, then the neighboring rooms would most definitely hear him, and every single whine sends an electric shock right down Harry’s spine. He moves a hand down to squeeze at the base of his cock, needing _something_. It feels like he’s been hard for a century now. 

Louis tracks the movement and then meets Harry’s eyes, lifting up to reach out and bring Harry down to hover over him, his three fingers still moving in and out. Their lips meet frantically, both of them so worked up by now, and when Harry curls his fingers up and finds Louis’ prostate, his head hits the pillow and he looks up at Harry, eyes glassy, and mouth open in a silent moan. 

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” Harry bites at the column of his neck, rubbing over his spot insistently and Louis starts pushing down against him hard.

“Okay, okay,” He breathes. “I’m ready. Come on, Harry, I swear I’m ready.” 

He kisses Louis’ lips again because he can’t help it, or maybe he’s just stalling because he’s extremely fucking nervous. “You’re sure?” 

“Ask me one more fucking time-“ He means for it to come out bratty and petulant, Harry can tell, but it comes out more as plea. It does the trick either way, because Harry moves quickly, breathing in a slow, shallow breath. 

He opens the condom and slides it on, pours some more lube over himself, probably too much, squeezes the base twice for good measure and prays this isn’t over in two minutes. “Okay,” He whispers mostly to himself as he lines up, pressing up at both of Louis’ thighs again. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this. 

Louis is looking up at him, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ and he’s flushed all over like the rose colored wall paper behind him.

He’s so happy he’s doing this. 

Harry starts to press in and Louis squeezes his eyes shut. Harry halts his movements. “Fuck, am I hurting you? I can stop, I-“

“No, no, just- just go slow. It’s- _fuck_ , it’s just that I can’t believe I-I’m letting someone who doesn’t even like tea fuck me,” He gets out. 

Harry stops moving again, looking down and giving Louis his most unimpressed look. “I _like_ tea,” He laughs a little and then groans, bottoming out. “You’re so fucking tight,” He breathes and then adds, “And so overdramatic.”

“ _No_ \- you can move, by the way- it was not real tea. You put all that sugar in it-” He cuts off with a small gasp when Harry pulls out almost completely and then pushes back in. “Oh my god.”

“You sure that’s what you wanna talk about right now, baby?” He pants against the side of Louis’ face, quickening his pace as Louis starts clawing at his back. 

Louis’ moans get louder and higher pitched the deeper Harry gets and it’s heaven. “Well, it is im-important that you realize- _fuck,_ _you’re_ _so_ _good_ \- but I suppose there are better th-things to talk about at the moment.”

He leans back, bending Louis’s legs up. Louis lets out an obscene moan. “Thought so.”

Louis would probably make some snarky comments if he weren’t already occupied, biting his lip so hard it’s white and making these little gaspy noises every time Harry aims upwards toward his prostate. He keeps going, keeping each thrust quick and shallow so that it nails the perfect spot every time. 

Louis is covered in a sheen of sweat, glowing on the crisp white sheets, making the sexiest sound Harry has _ever_ heard. 

“You like that?” Harry asks, feeling himself growing closer and closer. 

Louis groans, probably because he can hear the smug tone in Harry’s voice, but he nods quickly anyways, wetting his bottom lip. “You fucking know I do. _God,_ Harry, faster please. I’m so close.”

Harry lets go of his legs, dropping back down to attach his lips back to Louis’, biting at his bottom lip. “You feel so fucking good,” He moans, reaching down to stroke Louis’ cock in time with each thrust and Louis loses it. 

“Just like that. Oh my god, _Harry_. Harder,” He babbles, panting into Harry’s mouth. 

He obliges. His arm is straining, sweat dripping off his forehead with his curls moving with every movement as his picks up the pace.

“Come for me, babe. Look so good, wanna feel you come.” 

“I am. I’m gonna-“ Louis’ eyes roll back as he comes and Harry _does_ feel it because he clenches down, whining loudly, and it’s enough to send Harry right over the edge with him.

“Shit,” He whispers as he pulls out, breathing heavily into Louis’ neck. He closes his eyes for a second, taking in the moment before he removes the condom, ties it and tosses it into the trash can by the dressers. Louis’ eyes are closed when he lays back down. 

“I should clean myself up,” Louis states, sitting up.

“Right.” He looks over at him. “Um, I-I should go?” He says like a question.

Louis looks down and then back up to him. “You- um, you probably should?” He says biting his lip, mouth turned up a little in amusement.

They both laugh lightly. “Just hang on,” Louis says.

He rolls off the bed and goes into the bathroom and then comes back, timidly walking to the bed. Harry hasn’t moved yet.

“Um, I mean, you can sleep here and leave in the morning if you want to. We already, you know, so.” He shrugs, biting his nails.

“Uh.” Harry looks around, thinking about how terrible of an idea that actually is, despite how badly he wants to. 

“Okay,” He says anyways, meeting Louis’ eyes. 

“Cool.” Louis grins, clapping his hands together and then shuffles into the space in front of Harry, pulling the covers up over them. Harry drapes his arm over Louis’ middle.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“G’night, Louis,” Harry rasps, eyes falling shut and exhaustion taking over from the long day he’s had.

Just as Harry is drifting off, Louis reaches back and punches him in the arm. “That’s for your fucking smug comments earlier.”

~

Harry wakes up, hot and disoriented, with an unfamiliar body pressed to his front that he doesn’t recognize at first. He blinks his eyes open slowly to a dark hotel room, looking around to find that it’s not his own. It has to be three or four in the morning. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to wiggle a little and lean upwards, realizing exactly where he is and why. He smells the vanilla of Louis’ shampoo, feels the weight of him right up against every single part of his body. He’s completely naked still, they both are, and while it’s sticky and way too hot, it’s also nice. It’s really, really nice. Harry wants to kiss down the long expanse of Louis’ neck, snuggle him up and watch movies, maybe have morning sex, get his number, go on a date, a second date, let Louis boss him around every single day. Which- well, is insane. Not only is it insane, but it’s also impossible. 

He can’t breathe. He has to get the fuck out of here _now_. 

He slowly pulls away, slipping out of the bed to grab his clothes. That’s when he notices the other bed now has someone in it, clearly having snuck in while they were sleeping. If he woke up the both of them, Louis’ friend would probably kill him for just leaving Louis like this in the middle of the night. Under other circumstances he definitely wouldn’t be, but he’s not ready to start developing feelings for anyone, let alone someone who doesn’t even live in the same country as him. He has to just forget this ever happened. 

He sees his pants and shoes, putting them on as quietly and quickly as possible, but his shirt is nowhere to be found. He frantically paces the room trying to think about where it could be, and then notices that a sleeve is poking out from under Louis’ hip. Fuck, how did that even _get there_? He decides he has to just leave it because he can’t risk getting it and waking Louis up. 

He gathers his phone and cards from the floor and slips out the door, not looking back. 

~

When Harry wakes up again, it’s with a start. It’s bright in his room from the curtains he didn’t shut yesterday and he can tell he overslept immediately. There’s a faint ringing sound that he knows is his cell phone, but he can’t seem to locate it. He pats around, fumbling for it until one hand slides under his pillow and he finds it, clutching onto it and clicking the side button to reveal the time. 

10:30 a.m. He groans, burying his head back into his pillow for a few moments longer before getting up. He meets with Niall Horan (he’s too tired to start freaking out about that right now, but give him a moment to wake up and he will) in forty-five minutes and there’s absolutely no way he can be late. 

He takes a shower as quickly as possible, trying as hard as he can not to think about the night before. He almost wishes he had been drunk, so then maybe the visuals of Louis, tanned skin, soft pink lips, and the way he whined _so fucking loud,_ wouldn’t play back so vividly in his mind. But unfortunately he can’t escape it, at least not right now, and it costs him an extra ten minutes in the shower.

He fixes his hair in the mirror, deciding to forgo a scarf, letting his curls hang just above his shoulders and then heads over to his luggage. He can already tell how much traveling for so long is going to be dreadful when it comes to all the bags he needs. Searching through one of his larger suitcases, he finds a printed Marc Jacobs shirt, a muted color scheme he thinks says that he’s totally calm and not having a major freak out about this meeting. Or, not a meeting Cara had said, _think of it as lunch with a friend_. 

Harry had always stayed in the background at work. He knew how to mind his business, assist in choosing the right pieces, design layouts for each issue, and honestly do a little of everything, but making close friends was never something he really did, especially not with clients. He went to events, of course he had to, but he was not really the type to mingle too much with the models because he wasn't ever too sure what they would think of him. He had heard stories about the snobby types who only hung out with the elite, and he didn’t do well with any sort of rejection. Thinking of _Niall Horan_ as a friend is impossible to him. Niall has been on every magazine cover he can think of, he was chosen as a Gucci ambassador almost instantly after his shoot, _hell_ , brands have quite literally fought for him. 

He tries thinking of something else as he slips the shirt on, and then steps into his black jeans from the night before, considering he had only really slept in them, and then almost falls trying to get his black chelsea boots on. For some reason his mind keeps going back to Chris’ stupid face when he had said Harry was selfish for taking this job, that he should have stayed to work on what was left of their relationship.

But then, his thoughts travel down the dangerous road to Louis, yet again, and guilt creeps up slowly, but surely. He really honestly shouldn’t have left him in the middle of the night, but he was _clinging_ onto Harry, sweat glistening on his chest as Harry slid out of the bed, completely naked and Harry just couldn't think of anything but getting the fuck out of there, because if not, he might have cuddled Louis so close that they were exchanging body heat and kissed his forehead and those are absolutely ridiculous ideas that have no business floating around in his head. He obviously can't stay here and he _can’t_ get attached to some random stranger he’s known for twenty four hours. It’s the main reason he had decided to stop hooking up with people and start dating Chris in the first place, he’s just never been that great at one night stands. 

Every single thought makes him feel sick, stomach rolling with a million different emotions as he slips out of the room, making sure he has his key card before closing the door. 

It’s a chilly spring day, and he blames his shaky hands on that and that only as he opens the car door (because Gucci does not mess around and they sent a personal driver, which he thinks is generous and ridiculous at the same time) and slides in, greeting who he has been told is George with a pleasant hello. He sinks back in his seat, and his phone lights up with two new messages. For a split second he expects a _good luck babe_ or something of that sort, but he doesn't get that, of course. Instead it’s _knock em dead, you’ll do great_ from Zayn and a message from his mom scolding him for not calling yesterday, but then wishing him luck. 

He takes a deep breath as they pull up to the pub, fixing his shirt and pocketing his phone, making sure it’s turned down. He realizes he’s had his hands balled up into fists for the past five minutes on their drive over and he wiggles his fingers out, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He can do this. This is not even that big of a deal, right? Just lunch. 

When he walks into the pub, he’s surprised right away that it isn’t fancier than what it looks like on the outside. It reminds him of home and the types of places that Liam always likes to go to, and he smiles a little at the thought. He spots Niall just as the hostess greets him. His head is down, scrolling through his phone and Harry then realizes that he probably has no clue what Harry looks like. After letting the woman know that someone’s waiting for him, he makes his way to the table. 

Of course, immediately his mind catalogs what Niall is wearing, he really can’t help it. He’s casual in a plain white t-shirt and a checkered jacket, paired with navy blue pants and white vans. Harry thanks the heavens he decided not to wear something insane like a suit. 

Niall lifts his head, eyes lighting up as he sees Harry approaching. 

“Harry, right?” He asks in that Irish tone Harry has heard in countless interviews. He finds it incredibly endearing. Niall stands up, smiling brightly at Harry’s nod and Harry just- He can’t believe this is happening. “So great to meet you, mate! I've heard loads of good things from Cara.” So maybe Niall isn't that scary. And maybe Cara deserves a raise. He’ll have to remember to call her later to thank her. 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” He replies, shaking Niall’s hand and sliding into the booth. “Sorry if I seem nervous. I mean- this is just so new, ya know?” He rambles, twisting his hands together in his lap. 

Niall laughs, shaking his head as he sips his drink. “Don’t even worry about it. And don’t be nervous, you're gonna be great, I already know it.” He says deliberately. “Also, my best mate is coming to meet with us. He’ll be with us for the entire trip. I hope you don’t mind. He’s just- He needed a getaway and I don’t usually bring anyone on business trips, but-” 

Harry smiles at Niall’s nervous expression, and he can’t help but laugh a little at how he trips over his words, much like Harry had expected himself to do. “It’s completely fine. I really don’t see any problem at all. I mean technically, I’m at your service, so.” He shrugs. 

A waitress interrupts their conversation, and after they order drinks and an appetizer, Niall picks up where they left off. “No, you're not at my service,” He rolls his eyes jokingly and continues, “I really want us to be a team, become friends. You know Cynthia, she was great, honestly, and I was sad she had to leave. But she was always so scared to mess up. People will try to walk all over you if you're not confident, or at least if you don’t at least act like it. Not me, but you know the industry.” 

Harry nods, “Yeah, definitely. I know what you mean. I've always hung out in the background of things, but I can see that I'll have to get over that quick.”

“Exactly, but I've seen your work and I know everyone at HQ has a good feeling about you,” He smiles and then his face turns into a grin as he smiles at something behind Harry. “Finally, he’s here. Always late, he is. You’ll love him, I promise, he’s hilarious.” 

Harry turns around. Hilarious. Right. That’s exactly what Harry would use to describe his life right about now. Honestly, this is karma for whatever terrible thing he did in his past life, because of course Niall’s best friend is Louis. He can feel his hands getting sweaty again and that nauseous feeling from earlier is back in full force.

Louis isn't looking at him, not yet, he’s laughing at something the lady at the front is saying, eyes crinkling beautifully in the corners. He pats at her arm, sending her one last smile and then he bounces over to their table and Harry can’t turn around quick enough, wishing a black hole would come and swallow him right up into the dingy tiled floors. God, can’t one single thing go right? 

“So sorry I’m late,” Louis pants, sliding into the booth. He raises his hand for a handshake right as he meets Harry’s eyes and stills completely, hand outstretched awkwardly between them. “What the _fuck_?” 

Harry realizes in that moment that he’s completely and utterly fucked. 


End file.
